


Knead

by Xekstrin



Category: RWBY
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-10
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2019-03-16 06:02:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13630155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xekstrin/pseuds/Xekstrin
Summary: Pyrrha bakes when she's mad; Yang cooks as an expression of love.





	Knead

 

During the daytime, the cafeteria was always open for students with a meal plan, those boarding there for the whole semester. It was a training school for young warriors, some of them still teenagers; they burned through an alarming amount of calories a week.

If you had permission from the headmaster and you were older than seventeen, or you had some very specific religious requirements, you could sometimes reserve a spot in the kitchen to cook for yourself. Beacon was flexible; the cooks didn't mind sharing with the students, so long as the young adults behaved themselves.

With a grocery bag slung over one shoulder, Yang wandered into the kitchens to see a few other students already there. Immediately she zoomed in on the one familiar face: Pyrrha, in a messy tank and flour-coated shorts. Even among the others she seemed isolated, a thin bubble keeping them at bay. Nobody used the same counter as her, or the oven range.

It wasn't a mystery why; the normally placid girl looked like a small storm cloud, brow furrowed in concentration and a frown wrinkling her face.

Yang set her ingredients down right next to her, watching in amusement as Pyrrha went to work on raw dough.

"Yang, sprinkle more flour on the counter," she snapped instead of greeting her. Yang jumped to attention; Pyrrha never asked for anything, and something about her tone would have made Yang obey regardless. The little bit of help seemed to be exactly what she needed; the sticky dough behaved better under her hands as she beat it into shape, until it didn't cling to her so much and rested in a smooth ball.

"Good," she said, curtly, and then set it in a covered bowl. Reclining against the counter, Pyrrha crossed her arms and closed her eyes, sighing hugely.

_What bit her butt?_

Mentally shrugging, Yang took over the clean amount of counter space to work on her own dish. She needed to make dough too, though not as much as Pyrrha was working with.

"You want some pizza too, Pyrrha?" she offered. "I'm gonna make enough for the whole team."

Pyrrha gave her a sharp look. Then she returned to glaring at the floor. "I'm fine."

Yang hummed thoughtfully, scraping out canned tomatoes and minced onions and an obscene amount of garlic into a pot. "Whatcha working on?"

"Bread."

Yang eyed the veritable mountain of dough, still rising. "You must be hungry."

Pyrrha again spared her just a single glance, her words clipped. "I'm angry."

The tense silence that rose between them remained for the better part of an hour. Pyrrha just stood there, eyes closed, and left Yang wondering if she'd passed out while standing. But then she spoke again in a grumble. "I bake when I'm mad. Work it all out on the dough. Mom always said it makes the bread better."

"Makes sense." Yang tossed her raw, gooey pizza dough into the air to stretch it out some. "Dad and I always cook when we're in a good mood." She grinned over at Pyrrha. "I wonder which will taste better? I think yours is gonna suck. All that negative emotion will turn it into sourdough!"

For a moment she wondered if she'd prodded Pyrrha too much. Whatever had Pyrrha all twisted up might make her lash out another way.

But then she cracked a smile. "Maybe that's why my crust is always burnt."

Yang stuck her tongue out at her friend, and Pyrrha laughed shortly. Then she giggled again, then she was cracking up, some of the steam venting out of her tense frame. "I'm sorry, Yang. I didn't even thank you for helping me earlier."

"Hey, you've got a lot of good will to burn through, babe." She shook her hair out of her face, wishing she'd thought to tie it up before she started.

Pyrrha approached her friend, curiously looking over her station. "Do  _you_  need any help?"

"Shred some mozzarella for me," Yang said, nodding to the huge white brick on the cutting board.

"How much?"

Yang's face dropped into a deadly serious expression. "Punish me."

Pyrrha giggled again, and for a little while, she found another way to ease her torrid mood.


End file.
